


A Promising Connection

by MightyLauren



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hera enhances Kanan's connection to the Force, Mentions of Slavery, More characters to be added later, Post: A New Dawn, Rating also to rise later, Romance, Yet another take on how the space parents get together, okay these tags are ridiculous at this stage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyLauren/pseuds/MightyLauren
Summary: Hera watched as Kanan affectionately pat the bottom side of the Ghost and gave her a jaunty wink over his shoulder.“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, making long strides up the ramp.That was how her life with Kanan Jarrus had begun and if someone had told her then what they would become she probably wouldn’t have believed it.To her this was an experiment. A dalliance in adding actual crew to her ship. She knew precious little about him, but what she did know was... promising.--------Picks up where Star Wars: A New Dawn left off.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to this fandom and this fabulous ship. I love them so much.

Hera watched as Kanan affectionately pat the bottom side of the Ghost and gave her a jaunty wink over his shoulder.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, making long strides up the ramp.

That was how her life with Kanan Jarrus had begun and if someone had told her then what they would become she probably wouldn’t have believed it.

To her this was an experiment. A dalliance in adding actual crew to her ship. She knew precious little about him, but what she did know was... promising.

Kanan was smart, and good in a fight. He was more selfless than he tried to personify himself as. Despite acting as if he was only in it for himself, he’d flown against evacuating traffic to a half-destroyed moon just for the _chance_ to save his friend Okadiah.

Hera thought of all of this as she followed him through the ship, allowing him to acquaint himself, unable to keep her eyes from following his movements.

“Four cabins, huh?” He asked, when they hit the upper deck. “But I’m the only crew?”

When he turned, his distinct eyebrows arched in question. Hera attempted to act as if she hadn’t been watching him intently.

“So far,” she answered with a shrug. “I mean aside from my droid.”

She punched the controls for one of the cabins, the doors parting open. The space was as utilitarian as Kanan had expected with a low bench down one wall, a small table across from this, and two bunks straight ahead with rows of drawers below it.

“This’ll be your compartment,” Hera said behind him, as he stepped for the first time into _his_ room.

“Definitely not the worst place I’ve had to sleep,” he said, sliding his bag from his shoulder and tossing it onto the bottom bed with a thunk. “And in which of these lovely cabins do you rest your head?”

Kanan caught her watching him again and a satisfying warmth spread through him. He especially enjoyed how she attempted to pretend she’d been looking elsewhere, those beautiful green eyes darting away.

“I’m across the hall,” she answered, nodding her head towards the closed doors, lekku swinging.

She didn’t offer to show him, and he didn’t ask despite a burning curiosity to see it. Instead he kept quiet as she met his steady gaze, crossing her arms over herself as if challenging him to ask.

When he didn’t she unfolded from herself, brushing her fingers over the top of her slightly puffy flight suit pants as if to smooth them out. “Want to see the cockpit?”

Kanan’s blue-green eyes lit up, an answer in and of itself. Hera couldn’t help the small smile that crept across her lips as she led him down, through the common area, and into the cockpit.

“Nice,” Kanan said, elongating the word into a long tone. “Very nice.”

Hera stood back, watching as he roamed the edge of the space along the control panels, running gentle fingers around the buttons and switches.

 _Yes, definitely promising_ , Hera thought again. Kanan showed reverence and respect for her ship. He also seemed to be prepared to reign in his flirting, aside from asking about her quarters. Not that she minded the flirting so much. She was no stranger to men’s weakness for Twi’lek women. She would just hate for him to get the wrong idea.

Hera had things to do, missions to focus on. There wasn’t time for emotional ties or attachments. Not in war.

Though, come to think of it, she imagined as a former Jedi he would understand all that.

If he had been a Jedi, that is. Hera still wasn’t sure. He’d used the Force to save her life, and so far hadn’t spoken of it since. She had no intention on pushing him to, even if her curiosity about the matter only grew with every moment.

“This my seat?” Kanan asked, pointing to the co-pilot’s chair. When she nodded he sank into it, running his hands down the arm rests “Not bad at all.”

He swiveled the chair to face her, smiling broadly. Truth was, Kanan could get used to this. A nice state of art ship. Very nice company. Definitely not bad.

Hera opened her mouth to say something, but before she could the cockpit door whooshed back open and an orange topped astromech came wheeling in at top speed.

It was beeping almost as fast as it was rolling, speaking in some broken binary that Kanan couldn’t understand.

“Chopper, I see you’re done power cycling,” Hera said, looking down at the droid with an affectionate glint in her eyes. “This is our new crew member: Kanan.”

Somehow the next series of chirps and beeps sounded indignant. This droid was somehow giving Kanan _attitude_ as it advanced on him, bumping into his shins and making him jump from the co-pilot’s chair.

“ _Chopper_ ,” Hera said in a warning voice. The droid’s flat head spun to face her. “Yes, I know we were doing fine on our own, but you have to admit we could use an extra set of hands around here.”

Kanan put the chair between himself and the droid, leaning against the bulkhead as he watched the exchange. This, he realized pretty quickly, was more than just an astromech to Hera. She’d sank down to her knee to address the aggrieved droid, who’s head was spinning now, two small clamped arms coming out as it chirped its response out.

“Yes, I know you have a perfectly good set yourself,” she said, patting the droid, so that he stilled his head, arms folding back inside their compartments. He beeped forlornly, and Hera turned her attention back to Kanan. “Why don’t you go settle in, and then we’ll get underway in a couple of hours.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Kanan said, giving the droid a wide birth as he left the cockpit. Then he paused on the other side of the doors once they closed.

“Chop, I need you to give him a chance,” he heard Hera say, and when the droid attempted to protest she pressed on. “He saved my life. Do you understand? He saved my life.”

Kanan stepped away then, the strange tenderness in Hera’s voice, a voice that was already music to his ears, was nearly too much.

Sure, she was right, Kanan _had_ saved her. However he hadn’t done it to put her in some sort of debt to him. The Force sometimes worked in mysterious ways, and though it had rarely worked through him at all in the years since the rest of his Jedi brethren had fallen, it had guided him to save Hera. He wasn’t sure why, but he had known he was meant to keep her alive, to leave Gorse with her.

Even now, they’d only known each other for days, and yet he felt the connection. It was there, buzzing through the Force, and try as he might to ignore it, it persisted at the edge of his senses nonetheless.

Kanan set about unpacking his bag, putting clothes in the drawers below the bottom bunk. Slowly he unearthed the items at the bottom of the bag, the only remnants of his Jedi padawan past.

He opened the lower left drawer, and considered each item in turn before stowing them within. First the intricately inlayed cube, his Jedi Holocron which had sat unopened for years. Kanan didn’t open it now either, setting it in the drawer before fishing out the two metal pieces that comprised his lightsaber.

Fitting them together like a puzzle, he gripped the handle for a moment and closed his eyes. He remembered how proud he was when he’d finished building it, showing it to his Master Depa Billaba excitedly. Now it served as a sad reminder of her end.

Huffing out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Kanan disconnected the two pieces and set them in the drawer next to the holocron. Then, as he went to close it a thought occurred to him, and he took a pair of his least favorite pants to place overtop of the items, concealing them.

Hera didn’t seem like the type to come into his space and look through his stuff, but it was better safe than sorry.

He used the remaining time to visit the refresher to wash up. Examining his face in the mirror he regretted cutting his hair shorter. It had been an extra precaution before he hitched a ride off of Gorse, so that he ran less of a risk of being recognized as he evacuated the planet.

Fortunately it would grow back, and he’d left enough length that surely in a matter of months he’d be able to tie it back again. For now he’d have to deal with it falling in his face every now and again.

He returned to spend the remaining hour or so before they left lounging in his new bunk, happy to have a place to call home.

Hera had gotten much done since dismissing her new crew member. She’d run diagnostics on a number of systems, done some minor repairs to the shield system, and charted the course to their next destination.

She took her time, wanting to give him adequate room to settle in, as she had said. When it was time, she knocked on his compartment doors.

“Come in.”

Kanan sat up in the bunk, swinging his legs to the floor as she entered.

“Ready to go?” Hera asked, toeing the the durasteel floor with her boot, and holding back a smile at the sight of how comfortable he had looked in the brief moments she’d seen him laying out along the bunk.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, getting to his feet. They walked through the corridor together, footsteps echoing through the ship. “Where’s our first destination, by the way?”

Hera didn’t answer until she was set down in the pilot’s chair, already tending to some of the controls, switching things on. “We’ve got someone waiting on that intel Zaluna gave us,” she said. When she looked to him he’d already sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. “I already charted the course.”

“I see it,” Kanan said, leaning over his own control panel. “Engine power 100%, ready for take off.”

Like a Gungan to water, Hera thought to herself, as Kanan snapped right into his role without hesitation. She took the Ghost airborne, lifting carefully from the launch pad straight up and out of the opening in the roof of the space dock.

She wasted little time, angling the ship and flying swiftly up out of the atmosphere. The view through the cockpit windows went inky black, speckled with stars as they entered real space.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Hera said, tossing a lek over her shoulder and turning to look at Kanan.

He laughed, a deep balm of a sound, swiveling the chair slightly to smile at her. “Let’s go somewhere,” he said again, as he had when he’d boarded. “Captain.”

Hera didn’t need to hear more, she turned back forward, and punched to activate the hyperdrive. As the stars extended into long white lines of light, and the ship lurched forward, they both knew: this was the start of something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule to be determined. I have a habit of going gung ho on a new project and updating too fast in the early stages and then petering out. 
> 
> This is NOT to end up as long as my longest work (I have a series at like 400,000 words in another fandom XD) but I'm notoriously long winded so it won't be short either. 
> 
> This was just the Prologue so expect chapters to be a little lengthier. 
> 
> I should stop stalling and just post this. New fandom. New nervousness.


	2. Leaps of Faith

“Well, this is going _great_ ,” Kanan said, sarcastically.

Hera wanted to roll her eyes at him, but he had an excellent point. They were each backed up an alleyway wall, blasters out, ducking from imperial storm trooper fire. She spared a glance at him, he was impatiently shoving his hair out from his face before taking a step away from the wall to fire a couple shots at their pursuers.

“I didn’t hear you coming up with a better plan,” she said, as he fell back once more.

“If I’d known your plan was going to get us killed I would have come up with one,” he said, giving her a rakish smile over the space that separated them. Kanan neither believed they would actually die, or felt he could’ve come up with something better.

If he’d learned anything during the three months he’d been working for Hera it was that she usually made very solid plans. Also, in the event she couldn't she often came to him to plan instead.

Kanan watched as she took her turn, stepping out of the shadows, moonlight illuminating her green head-tails as they bobbed with her movements. _Besides it’s worth all the close calls,_ he thought.

Hera reached for her com unit as she fell back, unhitching it from her belt and bringing it up to her face. “Chop, I think we’re going to need a pick up,” she said, ducking just in time as a blaster bolt chipped part of the building away above her head. “Grab the phantom.”

“He can do that?” Kanan asked, stepping out to fire again, heart racing as he saw just how close the troopers were now.

“Yes, but not from this alleyway,” Hera said, eyes searching deeper behind them in the darkness between buildings. She reached out and tugged on his arm. “Come on.”

Kanan wasn’t a fan of turning his back on advancing troopers, but he followed her nonetheless, flicking his hair out of his eyes impatiently. Then he saw where she was headed, a fire escape of sorts clinging to the side of one of the adjacent buildings. She was already clambering up the first ladder when he reached it.

He fired two shots at the troopers, the rattling of their white armor getting ever closer, before vaulting up the escape two rungs at a time. By the time he made the roof their pursuers were in the alley below.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, holstering his blaster.

“I agree,” Hera said, then let out an almost sad sigh. “But there’s no way I can make that gap.” She nodded to the gaping alley that stood between them and the next roof.

Kanan could hear the hammering of boots on a fire escape ladder and instinct kicked in. “Actually I think we can,” he said, holding out a hand adorned in a fingerless glove to her.

“Are you crazy? No human, or Twi’lek for that matter, could make that jump,” Hera hissed out, confusion and panic cloying at her insides.

“Hera,” Kanan said her name earnestly, extending his hand even closer. “Do you trust me?”

She didn’t hesitate then, taking hold of his hand and allowing him to tug her into motion.

“When I say so, jump,” Kanan said, breaking out into a run. He had her hand in a tight grip, checking over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up with her shorter legs. The edge rapidly approaching, he bent his knee and shouted: “JUMP!”

Hera pushed off with him, sure they were about to fall three stories, but instead it felt as if something invisible was helping them. They leaped in a higher arc than should have been possible, landing easily on the other side.

“How did you—,” she started to ask.

“No time,” Kanan breathed, pulling her along. “I hope that droid is getting close.”

Kanan forced them forward, trying not to dwell too hard on exactly what he was doing. He hadn’t been kidding when he said there wasn’t time, the troopers had made it up onto the roof they’d just departed and with limited coverage he wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between them as he could.

“We’re going again,” he panted, squeezing her hand. Hera only answered by returning the squeeze. He had them running in a serpentine pattern, dodging incoming blaster bolts until they reached another edge. “JUMP!”

Again the Force supported them through the jump. He was surprised how easily he’d been able to call upon it again, just as he had three months before to save Hera from being smushed beneath a falling catwalk. Now here it was again, rising like a tide within Kanan to keep her safe.

Hera’s com clicked on, the sound of Chopper’s bleeping filtering through it.

“There!” Hera shouted, pointing to the sky, illuminated by the light of the planet’s twin moons, was the Phantom. It was a small excursion vehicle that could dock with the Ghost, and it was only a few rooftops away getting ever closer.

“One more jump and we’re in the clear,” Kanan said.

Hera followed him, all doubt gone as she clutched his hand. Everything seemed to fade around them: the blaster bolts, the sound of armored marching boots, everything. There was only the two of them, hands gripped together, running for their lives.

“Alright, here we go: JUMP!”

She knew now how he was doing it, or at least she was pretty sure she knew. It was a surreal feeling, like being on a planet with lower gravity. She looked at him to see his face was at ease, hair fluttering behind him as they soared.

The Phantom swung around, the back hatch opening as the vehicle hovered a few feet off the rooftop. Hera and Kanan made a break for it, jumping into the back at top speed.

“Chopper, go,” Hera shouted, and the hatch closed behind Kanan’s back. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and despite wanting desperately to ask him if he’d just done what she thought he’d done to get them out, she restrained. Instead she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s the job,” he said, shrugging off the praise, but the quirk in his lips as he smiled gave him away. Hera’s fingers gave his shoulder a squeeze, before she turned to the controls. The Phantom was already whisking them away, and though they could hear blasters firing Chopper had already flown them out of range.

Kanan flipped down one of the seats in the open space behind the pilot’s seat, sinking down onto it. Hera was already distracted, taking over flying from Chopper who was mounted atop the ship and not within it with them. As Kanan’s heart rate slowed, his mind whirred back into motion.

He’d discovered long ago that you couldn’t just _get rid_ of the Force. You could ignore it, and refuse to use it, but it always crept back. _Especially_ when he got too comfortable. Usually it took significantly longer to reach a point of comfortability for it to happen, but things with Hera were... different.

He’d used the Force in front of her within days of them meeting. Even now as he watched the back of her head as she flew, he could feel their strong connection buzzing. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

Previously, he would have taken this as a sure sign it was time to leave. To move on. To find another place to squat for a while before moving on.

A cold dread settled into his stomach at the thought, he shook it off. _It’s only been three months,_ he thought, running his fingers through his hair. _Not nearly as long as Gorse. You don’t need to run yet._

“You alright back there?” Hera asked, tossing a lek over her shoulder as she turned to check on him. He was much quieter than usual, but when she caught his eye he smiled and she relaxed.

“Yeah, just catching my breath,” Kanan said, rising to stand at her shoulder as they rapidly approached the space dock.

Hera didn’t speak again until the Phantom was safely nestled back into its slot on the Ghost. She swiveled out of the chair and led the way down the hatch ladder.

“We need to get off this planet before they track us here,” Hera said, turning to Kanan as his boots made ground at the bottom of the ladder.

“No arguments here,” he said, making immediately for the cockpit. “I’ll start prepping for launch.”

“I’ll get Chopper inside,” she said, taking a door to the right and going down into the cargo hold.

Within a few minutes they were off the ground, Kanan was rapidly calculating for the jump to hyper space, Chopper was getting shields and life support online, and Hera was expertly piloting them up out of the atmosphere.

They were gone before ground troops could have even hoped to locate them.

Kanan slumped back in his seat, breathing relaxed breaths for the first time in what felt like hours. He watched as Hera slowly unwound her hands from the control yoke.

“Well, that was an eventful trip to Lothal,” Kanan said. “Possibly the last one.”

“That depends on what the Empire is doing down there,” Hera said, pulling an imperial datastick from a pocket in her flight pants. “I still don’t know how that sleemo realized so fast I’d switched his out.”

Kanan laughed, turning the co-pilot’s chair to face her. “Maybe you’re not as smooth as you think you are,” he joked. He only laughed further at the look on her face, those beautiful green eyes squinting slightly as if daring him to continue.

“Only kidding, Sweetheart,” he said, leaning towards her over the gap. “We both know how smooth you are. You’ve talked me into helping you on these missions haven’t you?”

Hera blushed, a slight pink flush behind her green cheeks. She was also leaning slightly out of her chair, fingers wrapping around the datastick. She opened her mouth to retort but before she could Chopper came wheeling between them.

The droid made no effort to avoid Kanan’s legs, forcing him back fully into his seat as Chopper whooped and beeped. Kanan had started learning bits and pieces of the broken binary dialect the astromech spoke in, but not when he went this fast.

“We had _plenty_ of close calls before he came aboard,” Hera said, rising from her seat. She ran her fingers along the top of the droid’s head as she went by. “I’m going to wash up and then eat something.”

Hera didn’t specifically invite Kanan to dine with her, but it was implied.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

Hera smiled to herself as the door sealed behind her. She stowed the datastick in her cabin before heading to the refresher. She wrestled with the butterflies in her stomach as she cleaned up, unsure what it was about Kanan Jarrus that did this to her.

It wasn’t the flirting. No, he’d called her ‘sweetheart’ back on Gorse and it had done nothing but annoy her. No, it was the fact he’d become more and more committed to helping her with the riskier missions. It was all the things he did to support her cause he claimed not to care about.

Not only that, but he was _good_ at it. She had known he would be, seeing how he’d acted in their days before he’d become crew. He was quick on his feet, both mentally and physically, brave in all the ways that counted, and so far fiercely loyal. So much so that she was having a hard time thinking of him as just a crew member.

 _‘Not a travel companion. Not a revolutionary. Crew.’_   That had been what Kanan said before agreeing to come along. She wondered if he still felt that way.

He was actually waiting his turn outside the refresher, arms crossed over his chest, leaned up against the bulkhead. His head was bowed so that he looked up through a cascade of hair when she exited.

They passed each other in silence, but Kanan felt her shoulder brush his and couldn’t help the grin on his face.

He relieved himself, then stood at the sink to wash up and splash water on his cheeks, examining his own face in the mirror.

 _What are you doing, Caleb?_ It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself that question since meeting Hera. Running fingers through his hair, he pondered it again. If he kept up using the Force so frivolously it was only a matter of time before the wrong person took notice.

And then _both_ of their lives would be in extreme danger. His for being a surviving Jedi, hers for harboring him.

Still, he wasn’t ready to leave. He’d just have to reign it in and maybe not go leaping inhuman lengths to escape capture. It wouldn’t do them any goods to save their lives by putting them further in danger.

Hera was sat at the galley table when he found her, cutting up an orange skinned fruit with a fleshy pink interior. Kanan didn’t need to hear her next statement to know exactly what it was.

“Meiloorun!” Hera said, excitedly. “It’s my favorite, forgot I had one from the planet before last.”

A jolt of recognition shocked through Kanan’s veins, he hadn’t had a Meiloorun in years, since...

“Have you ever eaten one?”

Hera seemed happy, and chipper, so he tamped down the unpleasant memories attempting to surface and slid into a seat across the table from her.

“It’s been a long time,” he answered, taking the proffered slice.

“I used to sneak down into the kitchen to steal Meiloorun when I was a kid,” Hera said, taking a bite out of her slice and humming in satisfaction. “They grow easily on my home planet of Ryloth.”

Kanan looked up from his piece to her, she’d hardly ever talked about her past. Neither of them did.

“They were my mother’s favorite, too,” Hera said quietly. Then she set to eating her slice, before immediately cutting another. “They don’t grow everywhere though. Couldn’t grow one on the planet we just left for example.”

Taking a bite finally, Kanan nodded thoughtfully. “I’d forgotten how sweet they were.”

Silence fell as they ate, and despite his best efforts Kanan’s mind turned to a very different time he had eaten the fruit.

_‘Here kid, have some melon,’ a clone trooper said, holding out a lush slice of fruit. They were gathered around a camp fire the night before a mission. All the clones had their helmets off, and Caleb was sitting next to his Master, Depa Billaba._

_‘A meiloorun? I didn't think they grew on Kardoa,’ Caleb had said, taking the portion offered to him._

_‘They don't,’ another trooper said. ‘But Big-Mouth here gets his mitts on one no matter where we’re posted.’_

_Caleb ate, enjoying the camaraderie as one clone clapped the other on the shoulder._

_‘What can I say, it’s a gift.’_

“You okay?”

Kanan started, suddenly back in the galley of the Ghost. Instead of eating his fruit he'd started to grip it so tight his fingernails were digging into the pink meat of it.

Hera was staring at him across the table, concern etched across her beautiful face.

“Yeah, sorry,” Kanan said, setting down the piece of fruit. “Mind drifted.” He stood and went to rinse his now sticky fingers off.

She didn't speak behind him, but he could feel her eyes on him. He sighed, drying his hands on a cloth before returning to her.

“I wanted to thank you again,” she said quietly, now staring at her fruit more than eating it. “I know you try not to use… but I appreciate it.”

Hera had omitted ‘the Force’ from her statement, but it hung over them anyway. Kanan kept his eyes down, gazing at the table, until her hand crept over and found its way on top of his.

_“Talk to me."_

Kanan turned his hand over, gripping hers back. “I'm fine,” he lied. “Just… memories come up every time I…”

He decided not to tell her the meiloorun was adding to it. He wasn't ready to explain it all.

“You don't have to say anymore,” she said, giving him a soft smile. “I know what it's like to want to leave your past behind you.”

“Thanks,” Kanan murmured, sliding his hand from hers and going for his partially eaten slice of fruit.

Hera let the subject drop, resuming her slicing and allowing a comfortable silence to settle over them once more. She was sure there would be a time she was ready to share her past with him, and hoped the same would hold true for him sharing his with her.

She still wasn't sure if he'd been a full Jedi, but Jedi or not she was glad he was there.

 

 


	3. Nightmares

At first, Hera wasn’t sure what she was hearing. She was up of her own accord, not uncommon for her when she attempted to sleep through a hyperspace jump. She often woke up to relieve herself and then would check on things in the cockpit.

Chopper would complain that Hera didn’t trust him and she would counter that she _did_ but was just a worrier. Then she’d leave him to bleep to himself as she returned to bed.

At least, that’s how it usually went. Until she was standing outside her cabin door straining her ears to hear. Was Kanan talking to himself? The sounds were too muffled to fully make out. She crossed the hall, pressing the side of her face to the doors to hear better. She had shed her googles and head gear, leaving only the flight cap itself, it shielded her forehead but her cheek felt the coldness of the metal doors.

“No.... Master... NO!”

He sounded in anguish. Was he ill? She hesitated, arm reached out to the panel. She hadn’t stepped foot inside his compartment since the day he’d come aboard months before, but another muffled exclamation reached her and she punched the door control.

Kanan was asleep, tossing and turning on the bottom bunk, clearly deep in the throws of a nightmare. Hera had to check herself when she realized he was shirtless, wearing some loose fitting sleep pants but absolutely nothing from the waist up. A dusting of dark hair clung to defined muscles, flexing with each of his breaths.

Her gaze lingered there for moments, before she snapped them up to his face. The twisted grimace she found there was enough to unstick her from looming just a couple steps in the door.

“Kanan.” Hera knelt next to the bunk, both hands moving forward to shake him. “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

It took a couple more shakes before his eyes opened. Hera hadn’t turned on the full lights, so he was squinting at her in the dim night cycle lighting, his hair splayed out around his head on the bunk padding.

He was breathing hard, and for a moment Hera’s eyes slid back down to where the toned muscle of his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Embarrassment flooded Kanan’s expression. He sat up, wrenching his shoulder from Hera’s grip, decidedly not meeting her gaze as he swung his legs from the bunk.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, sitting on the edge of the bunk, head bowed so that a curtain of dark hair separated him from her. “Sorry I woke you.”

For a moment she just frowned, taking in the hunch of his shoulders, and the severe way he was folding in on himself. Her chest felt tight, seeing him wilt away from her.

“You didn’t wake me,” she said, moving from the floor to sit on the bed next to him. She was very aware of how little she was wearing compared to usual: a tank top and some fabric shorts to sleep in. She suspected if he was more himself he’d have a lot to say about just how much of her green skin was visible, that is if he would look at her.

Tentatively, she reached out a bare hand, touching his back, running her hand gently between his shoulder blades.

Kanan tensed in surprise. If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now. Hera always wore gloves, he couldn’t remember a time he’d touched her skin to skin, and the sensation was enough to drown out his embarrassment in an instant. He’d gone from wanting her to leave to wanting to collapse into her arms. Not that she would actually allow that...

He did however scoot a bit closer to her and was rewarded for it when her weight settled against his shoulder, her hand still running soothing patterns on his bare back.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Kanan admitted.

Hera let out a huff of a laugh. “Everyone has nightmares, Kanan,” she said. “It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I am though,” he murmured. His mind was foggy, clouded with images he wished he could forget. “The nightmares are my reminder of what a coward I am.”

Kanan slumped against her then, chin falling. It took her a moment to realize the tremors wracking his body were barely contained sobs. Hera acted on instinct, twisting where she sat to wrap both of her arms around him. He snaked an arm around her, his forehead falling to her shoulder.

Hera let him cry it out for a while, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of contact between their two bodies. He held her as if she was his last anchor, and she might slip away at any moment.

Some rational part of Kanan’s brain feared how he was looking to her, but he couldn’t seem to reign himself in. She was some how sturdy, warm and soft all at the same time. The first person he’d met he didn’t want to run away from in the long run.

“ _Hera_.“ Her name left his lips like a prayer, as his tears subsided.

“I’m here,” she replied softly, letting her cheek fall against the side of his head.

Hera was mildly alarmed by just how _natural_ it felt to hug him like this. She was half tempted to tug him down into the bed and lay with him, but the things that could lead to both thrilled and terrified her.

Instead she found herself gently pulling away, putting air between them.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan mumbled, dropping his arms from her. He wasn’t sure which thing he was apologizing more for: falling apart or clinging to her as he had been.

“You have _nothing_ to apologize for,” Hera said, reaching forward to slide delicate fingers under his chin, turning his face to hers. His beautiful teal eyes were tinged with red. “You should lay back down, and I’ll stay for a while until you’re ready to go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to—.” Kanan began to protest but she shook her head.

“I want to. Lay down,” she said brusquely as she stood.

Kanan hadn’t been sleeping with a blanket, but she’d spotted two folded neatly on the top bunk. She retrieved one, shaking it out. He’d done as she asked, laying down on his side with his back to the wall of the bunk. Gently, Hera draped the light blanket over his legs and partway up his chest.

She perched on the edge again with her back to his feet and her front angled so she could look down at him. Without thinking she reached out, running her hand across his shoulder soothingly.

“You can tell me about the dream,” she said, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that had surfaced thanks to the affectionate heat radiating from his gaze. “Sometimes that helps.”

Kanan swallowed hard, debating. “It was less a dream and more a replay of actual events,” he said. His eyes dropped from her face and the grimace was back.

“You don’t have to,” Hera said, inadvertently echoing what he’d said when she’d offered to stay with him. “We can talk about anything. Or nothing.”

“How much do you know about when the Jedi fell?” Kanan rolled over onto his back as he asked this, Hera’s hand sliding from his shoulder to his chest inadvertently. She made to move it but before she could he had placed one of his own over it.

“I know that Palpatine claimed the Jedi order betrayed him,” she said. “And instead of launching investigations or putting anyone on trial he...” She hesitated.

“Had them all killed,” Kanan finished the statement.

“Justice in the new empire,” Hera said, bitterly. “I was ten, old enough to know it didn’t feel right.”

“I was fourteen.”

Silence fell, and though Hera had a million questions she swallowed them. He was staring blankly up at the bottom of the bunk above, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand where it lie on his chest. Hera was just about to give him a pass, tell him he didn’t have to say more, when he spoke again.

“I was a padawan. My master, Depa Billaba, and I were on a planet we had just liberated from separatist forces,” he said. “She was amazing, smart, strong, glib.”

Hera couldn’t help the laugh. “Glib? So is that where your sass comes from?”

“Nah, I had that already,” he said, flashing her the first smile since she’d awoken him. “I think that’s why she picked me to begin with, because I never just took things at face value. I questioned my teachers incessantly until I got an answer I was satisfied with.”

Hera was quiet now, giving him an encouraging smile when he brought his eyes to hers. He hadn’t thought he would ever share what he was about to share with anyone, and yet somehow the moment felt right. Her hand was still under his on his chest and he couldn’t help but be a little too excited about the physical contact. It was helping him to steel himself against the icy sadness of the memories he was about to share.

“We were winding down, camped out after battle, when the order came,” he said, closing his eyes. “My master felt it first, but I wasn’t far behind. The Force flooded me with images like it never had before, images flashing through my consciousness as all over the galaxy clones turned on their Jedi leaders, slaughtering them. I could feel it all, but nothing made it more real than when I realized it was about to happen to us as well.”

“Friends who had just minutes before been laughing and joking with us around a campfire were drawing blasters on us. I didn’t run, not because I was too brave or selfless. I just froze up. My master had to shout at me to get me moving again, and we tried to fight them back.”

Kanan shuddered, Hera could feel the tremor of it beneath her fingertips. She turned her hand beneath his and gave it a gently squeeze, remind him that she was there.

“Master Billaba, she fought hard, cutting down men we thought were friends to keep them from killing us. I brought down two troopers with whom I’d shared a fresh Meiloorun with just a couple days before,” Kanan continued. Hera barely held back a gasp of surprise, thinking of the fruit they’d eaten a couple weeks before, remember his behavior then.

It made much more sense now. She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes taking in the lines of his face in the dim lighting. He was looking decidedly up as if gazing through the bunk and off into the depths of space.

“No matter how hard we fought, though, we weren't going to win,” Kanan said, exhaling a deep breath beneath their clasped hands. “She told me to run. Told me she'd be right behind me. It was the first time my Master had ever lied to me, and I listened to her anyway. I ran… and she died to allow for my escape.”

“Oh, Kanan, I’m so sorry,” Hera whispered, clutching his hand, resisting the urge to haul him back up into a hug. They'd already touched more in the brief time since she'd woke him up from his nightmare than they had in months of him being aboard the Ghost.

“I just left her.” Kanan’s voice sounded tight constricted. “Like the coward I am.”

Abruptly he released her hand, rolling away from her to face the back wall of his bunk, his tan shoulder blades to her. Hera could feel the proverbial wall coming up between them, feel him closing himself off.

“N-no,” she stammered out. “You were just a kid, you respected her wishes to save you, that doesn't make you a coward.”

“It’s fine, Hera,” he said in a flat voice. “I've accepted what I am.”

“Well, I'm telling you you're wrong,” she hissed, reaching out and forcibly rolling him to look at her again. It was worth it for the surprised look on his face. She was stronger than she looked, and the look on her pointed face was enough to keep him quiet. “I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for your bravery, or have you forgotten that?”

Hera had lifted herself up, bearing down on him, her eyes fierce. For a moment Kanan had to remind himself to breath. She had one hand on his shoulder keeping his back down to keep him from turning away, the other hand was brandishing a pointer finger in his face. Words were completely failing him, her lekku were swaying above him, her gaze burning into him.

“You think she would want you to feel guilty for the rest of your life? Do you think that's what she wanted when she saved you? I don't even need to know her to know the answer to both of those questions is ‘no’, Kanan Jarrus,” she said. “And honestly if I did know her, I'd thank her because if she hadn't done that we never would have met.”

Hera seemed to have surprised herself, her eyes going wide as she backed off, releasing him and sliding back to kneel next to the bed like she had done when she was rousing him from sleep. Kanan missed her proximity, breathing deeply as he absorbed what she had said.

Once, when a youngling at the Jedi temple on Coruscant, before even officially being selected as a padawan, he had inquired as to what a Jedi should do with no master and no orders. No one had been able to answer the question satisfactorily, other than to tell him to await further orders. Master Billaba had suggested perhaps his answer would come in another form.

At the time he'd thought she was just doing the usual Jedi thing of talking in riddles, but now as his eyes locked with Hera’s he wondered if his answer had found him.

“Caleb,” he said, rolling on his side, this time facing her, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, for the first time sparing a glance at the sheer expanse of green skin her tank top exposed.

“Beg pardon?” Hera sounded confused, her mouth twisting as she tried to work it out.

“My real name. My birth name,” Kanan said. “It was Caleb Dume. And for what it's worth, I'm also glad we met. I think you knew that though.”

Hera couldn't help but smile. There was a lot she wanted to say, a lot she was feeling at the moment, but she was tired and they had al the time in the galaxy to talk later. “Get some sleep,” she said, rising from the floor. “And thank you, for trusting me with all this.”

For a moment she leaned over and fussed with the blanket, essentially tucking him in. “You're the only one I trust,” he admitted, as she turned to leave.

“I feel the same,” Hera said, pausing at the door to look back. “Goodnight, Kanan.”

“Goodnight, Hera.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. It's actually been ready for a while but I was holding it in hopes to motivate myself to work on another fic in progress. You know I told myself I couldn't post this until I was ready to post that. 
> 
> But I'm totally stuck on that piece so I've stopped holding this one hostage. 
> 
> I really enjoyed rereading this chapter today to ensure it was ready. I love these two so much and I'm enjoying building my version of their early relationship.


	4. Fitting

“A dance club?” Kanan’s looked across the dejarik table to Hera, through the holographic display that she’d put up to show the destination of their next mission.

Hera let out a sigh, as if she too was displeased with the location. “It’s the only place my contact would meet me,” she explained. “In public, in a members only club. I imagine because everyone in there will be too distracted to care about what anyone else is doing.”

“How are we to get in a members only establishment?” Kanan’s asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, folding his hands together to rest his goateed chin on, practically glaring at the holographic display.

“We’ve got fake identities,” she answered, pulling them up on her DataPad. “You’re Ivandes Jarrleap, mid-level imperial officer and I’m...”. Hera cleared her throat, flicking her finger across the DataPad to slide his ID away and bring up hers. “I’m _your_ Twi’lek: Oosala.”

Kanan had picked the wrong moment to take a sip of his caf, choking on it and dribbling a fair amount down his front. “You’re _my_ Twi’lek,” he sputtered. “What does that even mean?”

Biting her lip, Hera looked away from him. “You know what it means,” she said. “The system we’re going to doesn’t recognize my people as independent citizens. The only Twi’lek around will be those owned by other people.”

“No...” It was the only response Kanan could manage. The idea that anyone could look at Hera and not see she was her own woman, strong and independent, made him feel sick to his stomach.

“It’s the only way—.”

“The only way is for you to pose as my _slave_?” Kanan asked, having to carefully temper his voice as his anger was certainly not directed _at_ her as much as at anyone who would treat her as such. “Let me go alone. I’ll make the exchange, no need for you to pose as... that.”

Hera probably shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction, they’d become closer and closer as friends, of course he would feel this way a bout treating her as a slave. Even for a brief period of time.

“What happened to not wanting to be a part of my crazy cause?” Hera joked to lighten the mood. “You know, you’ll help me on missions but you don’t want to be more involved than that?”

He huffed out a breath, leaning back against the curved bench’s back rest and crossing his arms over his chest. “That was months ago I said that, thought you realized I didn’t mean it... at least not so much anymore,” he said, with another sigh, his shoulders sagging.

Hera rose from the stool, gently tossing a lek back over her shoulder as she sidled onto the bench next to him. “I was _kidding_ ,” she said, bumping her shoulder into is. “In fact I’ve been thinking we _will_ hit a time where you take a mission just you, but it can’t be this one.”

“Why not?” Kanan asked, unfolding from himself to jab a finger at the holo. “Why should you go here at all? Why take the risk? You’re not on your own anymore, you don’t have to take on every task personally. _Especially_ when it takes you into a system where they look at you like a thing instead of a person— why are you smiling? I’m serious!”

“I know you are,” Hera said, unable to wipe the smile away. “It’s... sweet.”

This managed to shut him up. He could feel his cheeks flush. For something to do with his hands he adjusted his small nubbin of a ponytail, he couldn’t quite pull all of his hair back just yet, but it was long enough to pull the top half back. He was careful not to elbow her in the process... when had she moved so close to him?

“Anyway,” she said, spinning the hologram idly. “In this case, our contact only knows _me_ and I don’t think we can make a switch to just you without putting them on edge. Look at the bright side, if I was alone this would be much more dangerous. Instead I’ll be with you—.”

“As my _slave_ ,” Kanan groaned, sinking back, allowing his head to fall against the top of the orange padding, stretching one arm along the backrest behind her.

“If it helps, instead of looking at it as I’m your property, think about it as if I’m your girl,” Hera offered. “A lot of these rich men buy a Twi’lek and marry them. So try to think of it as going undercover as a couple instead.”

On impulse, she leaned back against his arm, giving him a warm smile.

“Hera, if you want to go on a date you simply have to ask, no need to pretend it’s for a mission.” Kanan gave her a big toothy smile after saying this.

Jaw dropping open, Hera shoved him. He nearly fell off the end of the bench, catching himself with the arm gripping the back of the seat, all the while laughing hysterically.

“Maybe I _will_ go on my own,” she retorted, turning her chin up and away from him. It wasn’t enough to hide her smile, or the slight blush on her cheeks.

“No way. I’m going,” Kanan said. “Because if I’m there no one can take you. Better to spend a couple hours pretending to belong to me than to end up actually belonging to someone else.”

“Now we are on the same page.”

Hera went back to showing him the layout of the club, and outlining the plan. Kanan sat back and listened, trying not to feel too elated at how he’d managed to make her blush. He couldn’t deny the idea of Hera being _his_ girl was appealing. Only not in a property sense, but, well, in a romantic sense.

Kanan had managed to put his physical attraction to her on the back burner for the most part, but this had only seemed to open him up to further his emotional attraction. Meanwhile Hera had maintained a stoic unreadable persona, allowing him just close enough without ever betraying her own feelings. Spending an evening at a snotty dance club pretending to be a couple might be the closest he would get to the real thing.

It was hard not to be excited.

Hera was in the middle of explaining the club’s dress code when she realized Kanan appeared to be light years away. He was watching her with that warmth that made her stomach flutter.

“Are you even listening?” she asked.

Blinking, Kanan seemed to come back to himself. “Yeah, you were basically saying none of my grungy roustabout clothes would be appropriate,” he said. “And I suppose you can’t turn up in a flight suit.”

“Not so much,” Hera said. “So we are headed to a place to get some clothes that look upscale without costing us too much. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

-0-0-0-0-

They stopped on some off grid moon to shop at an establishment Hera had clearly frequented before, as the shop keeper, a blue skinned Devaronian with jewel adorned horns, greeted her by name.

“Long time no see, Hera. What brings you out this way?”

“Hey, Picla,” Hera greeted, coming to the counter. “Heading to the Nefradus system, need some clothing for one of their clubs.”

Picla wrinkled her nose. Behind Hera, Kanan had already milled in among the racks, eying the clothing.

“Nefradus?” she asked, then lowered her voice. “Blink twice if you’re being dragged there against your will. I’ll put two blaster bolts in him before he can get around the rack.”

Hera laughed, her lekku waving as she shook her head no. “If anything I’m dragging _him_ ,” she said, checking to see where he was over her shoulder. He was looking at a flamboyantly patterned shirt but definitely listening to the two women talking.

“Since when do you have someone traveling with you?” Picla asked.

“Ah, well, I was bound to start picking up crew eventually,” Hera said.

“Crew... right.”

There was a beat of silence here, aside from the sound of hangers scraping along metal as Kanan continued to browse.

“Anyway,” Hera said, drawing the shop keepers gaze back to her. “I need a dress, you know the kind, and a proper Rylothian head covering. I don’t think I can get away with a flight cap.”

“No, honey, not on Nefradus. Here, I think I have something in back.”

Kanan glanced up again as the two women disappeared into the back of the shop. It was only just now occurring to him that Hera would be wearing an actual dress. This was hard to imagine as her wardrobe consisted wholly of flight pants and tops with long sleeves. Not that his wardrobe had more variety: a range of green tunics and earth tone pants.

Clothing never really was of much importance to him. When he’d been training to be a Jedi it had been all wrap around smock like tops and Jedi robes with long flowing sleeves. After that it was all clothing and equipment of convenience and practicality.

None of the clothing on the racks around him was practical. All of the pants had minimal pockets and the shirts all sported exuberant collars that would be far to easy for an adversary to snag hold of, but most importantly he had no idea where he’d find a place to carry his blaster discretely.

Picla was back, without Hera. She waded through the racks to get to Kanan. Her eyes, sharp and blue like her skin, swept over him. Then she retrieved two shirts and a pair of trousers from the racks around them.

“Try these,” she said shoving them into his arms and nodding to a curtained changing room. “It’s going to take her a minute to get into hers.”

Kanan wanted to ask exactly what that meant, it the Devaronian was pushing him towards his destination, all the way until he was inside the space, curtain being tugged closed behind him.

With a resigned sigh, he set about changing clothes. He unhitched his belt and holster, hanging it up on a hook before disrobing to put on the new cloths.

The black pants were tight, tight enough he had to do a shimmy to get them up over his hips to button them. The shirts weren’t much looser. One he outright refused to try on. It was black silk of some kind bedazzled with glittering burgundy jewels that clattered together as he shoved it aside to get to the second shirt.

This shirt was also shiny and silky but blessedly devoid of embellishments. It was also a solid color unlike many of the shirts he’d seen when browsing. It was the same burgundy as the stones on the other, and buttoned down the front with ornate black buttons.

Once he had it on he had to admit it didn’t look half bad. The color was still out of hand, but other than that Kanan wouldn’t have kicked himself out of bed in this outfit.

Neither woman had returned to the main shop when Kanan stepped out of the dressing room. He meandered over to a three panel mirror on one end of the space. He only had to wait a couple minutes before Hera turned up.

She was in a dress colored similarly to his shirt. It was completely sleeveless, the top ending in two arches that nevertheless showed a fair amount of cleavage. The gown clung to her hips enticingly, and sported a slit up the front through which a green leg peaked through with every step.

“Hera, you look...” Kanan began, but words failed him.

Hera looked amused, an eyebrow arching up as she joined him in front of the mirror.

“That’s meant to be tucked in,” Picla said, advancing on Kanan. She undid his pants and began shoving the bottom hem of the shirt in all the way around.

“At least buy me a drink first,” he joked, once the initial moment of shock wore off. Hera was covering her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Much better,” Picla said, as she gave his butt a swat and pushed him to stand in front of the mirror with Hera.

This essentially left Kanan speechless. The loose ends of the shirt had been covering the top bits of the pants and he was now very aware of how tight they were across the buttocks.

Hera was still chuckling as she came to his side, examining how they looked together in the mirror. “We clean up pretty well,” she said, smoothing her hands over the dress at her hips.

“Not bad at all,” he said, offering her his elbow. Without hesitation she looped her arm through his, leaning slightly against him. “Though you’re setting the bar pretty high in that dress, not sure I look quite that good.”

“Are you kidding?” Hera asked. She turned to him, bringing her fingers up to his chin to angle his face to hers. “In those pants?” Then, before he could think of a response, Hera had disengaged and turned back to the Devaronian. “We’ll take both outfits, now get me out of this dress.”

“I could help with that,” Kanan offered, ducking back just in time to avoid Hera’s attempt to swat him in the arm.

Hera chanced a look over her shoulder before the shopkeeper ushered her off the sales floor. Kanan was still watching her, a warm intensity to his gaze, before the door closed blocking him from view.

“ _Crew_ , huh?” Picla asked, looking at Hera suspiciously.

Hera didn’t acknowledge this. “We forgot the head dressing,” she said, realizing.

“It’s here,” Picla said, retrieving it to show her. It was made of dark leather, with straps meant to criss cross partially down her lekku. It would likely cover little, it certainly wouldn’t cover her ear cones, she could see the two round openings for them. “Would you like to try it on?”

“No, thanks, I’m sure it’s fine,” Hera said. “Just help me out of this gown.”

The Devaronian helped her undo the back of the dress, and step free from the garment, then turned away to let Hera dress.

“So how long has the hottie with the drawl been traveling with you?”

“Hottie? Really?” Hera said, laughing as she slid into her flight pants. “A few months now.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t find him attractive,” Picla said, hanging the gown and gently sliding a garment cover over it. “I know he finds _you_ attractive. Thought I would have to scrape his jaw off the floor when you came out in the dress.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Hera lied, stooping to put her boots back on. Truth was the look he’d given her had sent her pulse racing and her stomach fluttering, but that was no one’s business but hers.

“Oh, in that case you wouldn’t mind if I actually offered to buy him that drink?” Picla asked. Hera nearly fell over as her foot missed the opening of the second boot entirely. Picla reached out to steady her, laughing hysterically. “That’s what I thought.”

“What Kanan does with his free time is none of my business,” Hera huffed. “So... feel free.”

The blue skinned Devaronian shook her head. “The denial is strong, but I think you like him,” she said. “Don’t know why you’d not want to admit it, but I just work here.”

Then the shopkeeper left the back room without another word, carrying the gown and head covering.

Hera let out a sigh, sinking down onto a crate to finish putting her shoes on. “It’s... complicated,” she said to no one, failing to convince the one person present: herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the first chapters this one and the two subsequent chapters will be back to back timeline wise without time lapse between. 
> 
> I love a fake relationship trope sooooo that’s what’s happening this mission. ;-)


	5. The Meet-Up

Hera squirmed, attempting to twist and reach the zipper on her dress. She was alone in her cabin, and mad at herself for not considering how she would get into the get up without assistance. Chopper was too short to reach, which left her only one option. She groaned, stepping across the hall to knock on Kanan’s compartment doors.

It took a second for him to answer, and when he did he was buttoning up his shirt, his hair still damp and tousled from the refresher. He looked her over with those deep bluegreen eyes of his.

“Everything okay?” he asked, raising one of his thick eyebrows.

“Can you zip this up?” Hera asked, turning her back to him.

Kanan was immediately distracted by the sight of her bare back, with it’s tattoos similar to those on her lekku. He did as he was asked, slowly tugging the closure up so as not to snag it on any of the beautiful perfect skin he saw before him.

“All done,” he said. Hera turned to thank him and he had to actively keep himself from looking down at the way the dress dipped tantalizingly between her breasts to show cleavage.

“Thanks, I tried to do it myself but failed,” she said.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I’m just about ready.”

“I need a bit more time,” Hera admitted. She still had a head dressing and fancy boots to get on.

She disappeared back into her room and Kanan couldn’t help but watch her go. He still wasn’t sure this mission was a good idea for them to go in as a couple. He’d certainly been excited at first, but now he worried he’d blur reality with their cover by the time it was through.

These thoughts distracted him as he finished getting ready and proceeded to the cargo bay to wait for Hera. He passed Chopper on the way, who bleeped menacingly at him. Kanan wasn’t 100% on the translation, but he was pretty sure it equated to ‘you better take care of her or else’ before the droid swatted at his leg with one of his spindly arms and wheeled off.

Had he been less nervous about the endeavor, perhaps Kanan would have responded rakishly. Perhaps assuring the droids he would take _very_ good care of her on their _date_ and thrown in a wink for good measure. As it were, however, he ignored the droid.

He felt naked without his blaster, there was no way to carry it without being obvious. The pockets on the pants were too tight, and tucking it into the waist band left it visible under his shirt. Hera had assured him he wouldn’t need it, and he was doing his best to believe it.

So distracted by his thoughts, Kanan didn’t hear Hera coming until she was halfway down the ladder.

“This ship was not designed for navigating in a dress,” she huffed, fiddling with the burgundy fabrics to straighten it out after descending the ladder. Her boots rose high on her legs, nearly to her knees, and had significant heels that put her at Kanan’s height. “What?”

Kanan realized he was gaping at her head dress, blinking and letting out a breath. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen your,” he said, pointing to his own ears.

“Oh...” Hera usually kept her ear cones covered. Her flight capor a headwrap was usually in her daily wear, but this Rylothian headdress allowed them to peak out. “It’s a more provocative head covering than you’ll ever see me wear voluntarily.”

He nodded, eying the cross cross of leather down her lekku before looking away. “Are we ready?” he asked, angling himself towards the cargo hold doors.

She answered by taking three long strides, her heels clicking on the durasteel floor, and activating the ramp. It folded open with a clang.

“Hold down the fort, Chop,” she said, over her shoulder. “I’ve got my comm if you need us.”

Hera was already at the foot of the ramp down from the Ghost before Kanan unstuck himself, clambering down behind her. He felt the ramp fold closed just behind him after he stepped off.

“Where, exactly, are you keeping a comm unit?” Kanan asked, catching up. The dress clearly had no pockets, and she wasn’t carrying any sort of bag.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Hera said, a teasing tone to her voice, a hand on her hip. “Come on, we need to hail a ride.”

Kanan dutifully followed her out of the space port and into a bustling cityscape. He’d caught a good look at it as they’d come into port and it almost reminded him of Coruscant, only on a much smaller scale. This was only reinforced further as they stepped out onto the walk way.

They were well up from the ground, over the rail was an elaborate array of traffic lanes with hover vehicular rapidly passing in different directions.

Kanan hated that after so many years it somehow gave him a sense of home. Hera was already flagging down a hover cab with a droid driver. Kanan was a million miles away as she told the destination, it wasn’t until she tugged on his arm that he refocused on the moment.

“You coming?”

He answered by sliding into the back seat beside her and closing the door. They were off in an instant. The hovercab had an open top, the purple twilight sky hanging over them as they flew.

Wind whipped through Kanan’s hair, which was half pulled back as it usually was these days. Hera was gazing out the other side of the vehicle away from him, allowing him to look at her as much as he wanted.

She looked gorgeous, she’d even put on some make up which was very unusual for her. She didn’t need it to be beautiful but there was no doubt that the shimmer she’d added to her cheeks was doing things to him. He wanted to brush his nose across those shimmering cheeks to find her lips with his own.

Hera was oblivious to this, her mind as it usually was before a mission was going over pertinent details. She was reminding herself of the Club’s layout, and where the contact said to meet, and what they’re fake identities were. There was no doubt Kanan looked handsome in his getup, but she wasn’t going to let it distract her.

“Here we are,” the driver droid chirped, as it pulled up in front.

Hanging over the entry doors was a bright glowing sign in an alien language. The hovercab pulled up onto a curved drive, allowing exit from either side of the vehicle.

Kanan hopped out of his side, coming around to open her door, and give her a hand out of the cab before handing credits off to the driver. He took a deep breath, and then offered her his elbow.

Door security was a buff Besalisk in a fancy tuxedo. Like all Besalisk he had four arms, in one hand he held a blaster, in another a comm unit, and then he was balancing a DataPad between the remaining two. He swept his heavily lidded eyes over them as they approached before requesting their ID chips, which Kanan retrieves from a pocket in his over tight pants.

The Besalisk scanned them into his DataPad and then examined both Kanan and Hera closely compared to the pictures attached to the IDs.

Kanan looked to Hera instead, she met his gaze calmly, squeezing his arm with hers in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Welcome, Mr. Jarrleap,” the bouncer said at last. “I’m sure you and your Twi’lek will have a wonderful evening.”

Taking back the identity chips, Kanan had to ignore the leering look the guard bestowed upon Hera as they passed.

“That went well,” Hera said, leaning in close to him to talk. “We should blend in for a while, the contact isn’t expecting to meet us for a while longer.”

Kanan nodded, eyes roving the space. There were tables all along the outskirts of a massive dance floor packed with people. His eyes fell upon the bar and without hesitation he steered them towards it. He half expected Hera to protest, usually they didn’t drink on missions, but from what he saw around them it was going to be necessary if they wanted to blend.

“Darling, what would you like?” Kanan asked, as he eased a stool out for Hera to sit down on. The affectionate name slid off his tongue a little too easily, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll have a Sonic Servodriver.”

Kanan nodded, waving over the bartender to order her cocktail and a Corellian ale for himself. He didn’t sit, standing instead next to Hera’s stool, trying not to look at the beautifully toned green leg that peeked out of the slit in her gown when she crossed her legs.

He was just reaching for the drinks when a patron on the other side of Hera began to speak.

“My my my aren’t you a treat for the eyes,” the clearly drunk humanoid drawled. He was already leaned in, elbow on the bar, eyes clearly lost in her green cleavage.

“Here we are, my darling,” Kanan said, loudly, setting Hera’s smoking cocktail glass in front of her, before defensively sliding an arm around her. He brought his sharp eyes to the leering patron. “My wife _is_ lovely, isn’t she?”

“Thank you, dear,” Hera said, leaning against him to put more space between her and the stranger.

The man mumbled an apology and promptly half-stumbled away from the bar. Kanan moved to drop his arm from around Hera.

“No, leave it, we’re _meant_ to be a couple remember,” she said. She found it odd that she felt safer with him so close, especially considering where they were. He also smelled very nice, she was starting to wonder if he was wearing cologne.

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” Kanan said, sipping his ale, looking around at the club more than her. “Can’t hardly blame him for trying.”

Hera could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks, she swizzles the stirrer in her drink, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. For a couple minutes they drank in silence, both taking in the lay of the land. Kanan took minuscule sips of his ale, knowing he should not get a second.

“Shall we mingle back towards the rendezvous spot?” Kanan asked after a while.

Hera nodded, rising from the stool delicately gripping her glass.

The club had multiple areas and rooms themed to different genres of music and localities around the galaxy, some without dance floors at all. The one they were destined for was one at the very back, meaning they’d have to wade through a couple other spaces to reach it.

Kanan allowed his hand to rest on the small of Hera’s back as they set out through the dancing crowd. In the second room, a man with lizard like skin grabbed Hera’s backside as they passed and her reaction was swift. She turned and shoved the groper back, throwing her drink in his face.

He whirled around, shouting at Hera in an alien language before spotting Kanan, who’d slid his arm once more around her, pulling her back against him. As much as his fist was itching to punch this asshole in the face, he didn’t think they could hit another patron and be allowed to stay.

Hera didn’t fight his grip, allowing herself to be pressed into Kanan’s side. She wasn’t sure if this _thing_ spoke Basic, but she still spoke back in a clear, slightly threatening, tone. “I’m not yours to touch.”

The lizard skinned man backed off, allowing Kanan to urge Hera away from the area and on to the next room.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ducking his head close to hers as they waded through people.

“It’s fine, I’m used to people thinking they can just touch me because of what I am,” Hera answered. She didn’t look at him when she said this, which was probably a good thing as he was sure his anger at the notion was written all over his face. “Oh, kriff...”

Kanan looked up, following her gaze until he too saw the pair of stormtroopers. Kanan downed the last of his drink, ditching both their glasses onto a passing servers tray.

“Let’s dance,” he said, hauling her into the throng of revelers in the center of the space. She looked briefly surprised before rearranging her expression as he pulled her in close to him to dance. “I thought there was no imperial presence here on Nefradus.”

“Intel indicated there wasn’t,” Hera said, one of her lek brushing against his face as she turned her head, tracking the troopers movements. “And it looks like they’re headed to the same room we were headed to.”

Kanan groaned, knowing full well what she was about to ask of him. “Would now be a good time to remind you that we’re unarmed?” he asked.

“I’m not proposing more than we observe,” Hera said, allowing him to sway her with him in a minimal excuse for dancing.

“Right... observe,” Kanan said, with a laugh. “You’re very good at just staying back and observing.”

The stormtroopers had disappeared in the next room, and Hera wasn’t going to let them out of her sight for long. She seized Kanan’s hand and began dragging him through the dance floor full of people.

Kanan had known a long time ago that he would follow Hera anywhere. He couldn’t keep himself from watching the sway of her head tails, partially covered in crisscrossing leather. The thought of not accompanying her while she followed stormtroopers, unarmed, was not even an option.

The next room was devoid of a dance floor, instead it was full of tall tables, and booths packed with people drinking. The troopers were clearly going table to table checking IDs. Hera wondered if theirs would hold up under imperial scrutiny, but wasn’t sure she really wanted to find out first hand.

She pulled Kanan to the side into a shadowy corner.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as she pulled him flush with her as if he was pressing her up against the wall.

“Kiss my neck,” she commanded, slightly arching her neck to make it available to him. Kanan stared, stunned. “So I can watch but we won’t be bothered. We’re a couple right now, remember? So... kiss my neck.”

Kanan swallowed down the knot in his throat and nuzzled his face into the green curved of her neck. He pressed a couple gentle kisses to her pulse point and felt her breath hitch for a moment. Suddenly there were gentle fingers in his hair, urging Kanan to lean into her further, one hand on her hip, the other braced against the wall as his lips ran over her skin.

“Kanan...” Hera breathed, fingers still playing in his hair. She was suddenly having a very hard time focusing on her task. His hair was soft between her fingers, his breath warm against her neck. Hera didn’t even notice her contact was the one the troopers were currently interrogating until they started hauling the Sullustan out of the booth he was sitting in. “Kanan, they’re arresting our contact.”

Kanan pulled away, nose near her ear cone. “You sure it’s them?” he asked, maintaining their cover by not turning himself.

“Yes,” she insisted. “Come on, they’re going out the back.”

Kanan still had her pinned against the wall, he pulled back to look her in the eyes. “What happened to just observing?” She gave him a pleading look, making Kanan sigh. “Fine, lead the way.”

Hera smiled, pressed a kiss to his cheek surprising him, and then grabbed his hand, tugging him behind her towards the back exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can just see Hera steamrolling on and Kanan hanging on for the ride in these circumstances. XD


	6. Hitting the Fan

Hera half-dragged Kanan to the back door, pausing just long enough to ensure the bartender wasn’t paying attention before slipping out the door. They found themselves in what appeared to be a back alley between buildings. There were crates stacked up here and there, Hera pulled Kanan behind a stack for cover.

She was still gripping his hand, seemingly unaware, but there was nothing Kanan was more aware of than the way their fingers were twined together. It took him a moment to register the voices drifting to them from further up the alley.

“Who were you meeting?” one demanded.

“I wasn’t meeting anyone, I was just having a drink or two to unwind.”

“You’re wasting our time lying,” came a third voice. “We know you’re a rebel sympathizer, and we know you’re here to meet someone.”

Hera let out a soft gasp, dropping Kanan’s hand to turn and give him a significant look. The Empire knew this guy was about to sell info to the Rebels — to _them_. By any metric, this wasn’t good, and Kanan wanted more than anything to evacuate the situation before they were caught.

Though after months working with Hera, he knew better. There was no way she was going to leave the info she had come for behind, or the contact meant to provide it in custody. She’d put her back to him again, sneaking a look around the cargo containers they were hiding behind, getting the lay of the land. 

“Okay, on my signal we’re going to ambush them,” Hera whispered, ignoring the look of mingled hesitation and alarm on his face. “There’s only two of them, shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll call Chop and have him pick us up in the Phantom.”

“Ambush them with what?” Kanan asked, but Hera was already crossing the alley to hide behind a different stack of boxes. “ _Hera_...”

All she did was press a finger to her lips and give him a signal to hold.

“Who were you meeting?” came the barking voice of a stormtrooper again, then the sound of metal against skin as if he’d struck the Sullustan with the blaster. “If you tell us now maybe they’ll spare you the interrogation droid when we take you in.”

Hera peered around the crates, saw the prisoner— her contact— staring down the stormtroopers. She wondered if he was considering the offer, then without warning, he spat on the trooper’s white boot, spittle tinted with blood splattered there before the trooper roared with rage.

She gave Kanan the signal, and with a determined face, he vaulted over his stack of cargo crates as if it was nothing. Hera, on the other hand, retrieved a blaster from her boot and darted out from behind hers.

“That’s quite enough,” she said, aiming at the trooper closest to the prisoner.

Kanan had other plans, reaching his arms out, palms facing the two stormtroopers before yanking back against something invisible. Both troopers’ blasters left their hands, and Kanan caught them with ease.

Hera was astounded for a moment, just long enough for a trooper to start making the call for back up before she stunned him and his fellow.

“Where were you even keeping that?” Kanan asked, moving to free the prisoner, shoving one of the stolen blasters into the Sullustan’s hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, with a sly smile she reached into the cleavage of her dress to retrieve her comm unit. “Chopper, we’re going to need a pickup.”

“Who are you?” the Sullustan asked, eyes sliding over the unconscious storm troopers.

“We’re the ones you were here to meet,” Hera answered, stepping forward. “I’m Hera, and this is Kanan. We’ll get you out of here and drop you off wherever you like.”

A return call was coming in on the troopers comm, checking status. _Someone_ had clearly heard their fragmented attempt to call for back up. Hera groaned internally, none of this going to plan.

“We’re going to have to move,” Kanan said, walking to the mouth of the alley to look out. “Sooner rather than later.”

“Chop can pick us up even if we’re on the move,” Hera said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Kanan felt a rush of pride because she trusted him now. Trusted him enough to step back and let him lead. This meant more to him than he had expected, and he didn’t want to let her down. He scanned what was nearby on the busy metropolis throughway until he saw a delivery transport parked on a shop’s dock unattended.

“Got it, let’s go.”

Kanan headed out, listening for the sound of Hera and the Sullustan man’s hammering along being him. To their right was the railing beyond which was nothing but air and the transport lanes buzzing with ships moving to and fro, to their left was more and more business fronts. They passed a restaurant, another club, some sort of high-end medical facility advertising body modifications, then they reached the store with the available delivery transport.

“In here,” Kanan called over his shoulder, trotting around to get into the pilot’s seat. Hera & their charge piled in via the other side, and soon all three of them were smashed onto a bench clearly meant for two as Kanan fired up the engines.

“We’re just going to take this transport?” the man asked.

“Don’t worry, just borrowing it. They’ll have a tracker on it,” Kanan said. “So they’ll get it back after we’re done with it.”

He pulled on the control yokes, merging them none too gracefully into traffic. A few transports around them hit their horns, veering to avoid collisions.

“That is if we don’t wreck it first,” Hera said, sounding more amused than annoyed. “Maybe I should have driven.”

“Probably!” Kanan promptly set about merging over to turn onto a crossing air lane, wanting to put as much distance between the club and them as possible. “Where to... I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

The Sullustan was gripping the back of the acceleration couch tightly, somehow managing to give Kanan with a look half exasperated and half terrified with his widely set black eyes.

“And I don’t think you need it now,” he replied, jowls wobbling as he spoke. “Go north, to the junkyards. Where the city dumps its trash.”

Kanan made another hard turn, nearly swerving up onto the pedestrian walkway before regaining control in time to dive down beneath cross traffic and keep going.

“If you keep disobeying traffic laws you’ll have local authorities after us,” Hera warned. She wasn’t the least bit concerned that he might crash, this was Kanan after all.

As if on cue, the sound of klaxons blaring drifted to them from behind. Hera could see the orange lights flashing, refracting off anything that could reflect them 

“You just _had_ to say something.”

“Oh yes, it’s not you’re flying drawing their attention. It’s me saying it.” Hera’s comm went off, warbling through it the beeps and boops of Chopper. “Well, we need to lose them. No point having Chop pick us up if they’re on our tails.”

“Where is he?”

“Take a right… NOW.” Kanan jerked the steering yokes, turning sharply into a sideline. “A left… NOW.”

They were snaking between structures rapidly and miraculously the sirens were sounding further and further away behind them, though still ever present. Hera could see the _Phantom_ out of the corner of her eye, flying above the buildings.

“We need altitude,” she said. Kanan let out a groan, looking up at the lanes of air traffic above their heads. “If we met on top of one of these we can ditch this ship, hop in the _Phantom_ which nobody is looking for.”

“Easier said than done,” he said. Then he took a long, deep breath, calling upon the Force for the second time that day. He nearly closed his eyes but decided it might alarm the others. “Alright, hang on to your butts.”

He turned a sharp corner and pulled up at the same time, merging seamlessly into a higher level of vehicles. He left them there for mere moments before pulling back on the yokes again.

“Kanan!”

“I got this, Hera. Just tell that bucket of bolts to meet us at the top!”

The delivery vehicle was weaving between ships as it rose, occasionally coming _very_ close to clipping one on it’s way past. Kanan couldn’t help his victorious “whoop” from escaping his lips as they broke out the top of the traffic, leveling out on top of a roof.

Chopper didn’t bother landing the _Phantom_. Instead, it hovered maybe a foot off of the rooftop as the three rebels clambered on board. Kanan made for the pilot’s seat, but Hera seized his arm and with a stern voice but peaceful expression scolded him.

“Nope, it’s my turn,” she said. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Then she winked, and they were off.

Within minutes they were quietly flowing with traffic, the sirens now a long way off in the distance.

No one spoke until they arrived at the junkyards. It was a nearly endless sea of trash in great big piles that made it look like the most disgusting mountain range. The Sullustan man pointed them to a squalid structure tucked among the heaps, Hera touched their small transport down easily in front of it, popping the back door open.

“I have to say, as insane as that just was, most people would have left me there,” the Sullustan said, a look of respect on the unusual looking face.

“We’re not like most people,” Hera said, swiveling out of the pilot’s seat, her lekku bouncing as she went. “You were only there to meet us, after all. Would make us just as bad as the Empire had we left you to face those consequences alone.”

Kanan waited for her to remind him he hadn’t actually handed off the intel they’d been meeting to exchange in the first place. Instead, she offered a hand which the man shook, then he turned and shook Kanan’s hand before turning to leave.

He paused at the door, remembering on his own. He pulled a data cube from his pocket and held it out for Hera.

“Oh, right,” Hera said. Though Kanan knew her well enough to know it hadn’t left her mind for even a second. “Kanan has your payment.”

Before Kanan could even make a move for his pocket, the man was waving him off.

“Keep it,” he said. “And good luck.”

Then he was gone, Kanan watched as Hera, smirking, tucked the data cube into the cleavage of the dress she was still wearing.

“You hadn’t forgotten at all, had you?”

“Of course not,” Hera said, straightening up. “But now he doesn’t feel like we only rescued him for the intel and if he comes across more info that would be helpful to our cause, he will still feel inclined to share it.”

Kanan _almost_ corrected her. He almost told her that it still wasn’t _his_ cause, but he held back for some reason. He’d just opened his mouth to say they should probably get going when Chopper came rolling into the body of the _Phantom._

“Right you are, we better go,” Hera said, sliding back into the pilot’s seat.

The trip to the spaceport wasn’t long, but the moment it came into view they knew there was about to be trouble. The flashing orange lights that had earlier been trailing them around were now clustered at the front entry point.

“Looks like the fun’s not over,” Kanan said. “They’re not looking for this ship though, or the _Ghost_.”

“No, but they’ve probably issued an order freezing all departures. By now those troopers we stunned could have woken up,” she said. “Always a chance they’d recognize _us._ So we’re not hanging around.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Kanan said. The _Phantom_ was soaring unimpeded over the port, as they descended into the circular opening above the _Ghost_ he asked, “top gun?”

“No, I need you in the co-pilot’s seat,” Hera said, now backing the _Phantom_ into its docking slot. “We’ve got a lot of systems to get online and the moment we start powering up they’ll be coming. Chop can fire the guns from the console if necessary. Let’s move.”

She descended the ladder far faster than she should have been able to in those heels, leaving Kanan to slide down, completely ignoring the rungs. By the time he reached the cockpit, Hera was already in her seat and barking orders.

“Get the life support systems online, followed by the stabilizers, and the shields,” she said, rapidly flipping switches, firing the main engines. “We’re in motion the _moment_ the systems required are online.”

Kanan set to work, navigating the controls faster than he ever had before, calling each back to her as they came online. He had just declared the shields were up when a group of stormtroopers burst into the hangar bay, lighting the ship up with blaster fire.

“Time to go!” Hera was already lifting off as she said this, knowing full well Kanan was quick enough on the uptake to be ready. “I need calculations done for a hyperspace jump.”

“Where to?” Kanan asked, diverting some extra power to the forward shields as the blaster fire continued.

“Doesn’t matter, anywhere we know is a safe sector.” The _Ghost_ had cleared the top of the gate. There were fighters deployed to waylay them. Not TIEs but some of the local units with their flashing orange lights. Hera didn’t flinch, didn’t react outwardly at all, she just did what she was good at.

She flew.

Kanan was rapidly calculating their jump, behind him Chopper was jacked into the ship, firing shots out of the front cannons, missing any of the ships. Kanan was itching to get into one of the guns, but Hera was the captain, and he was following orders.

“Hyperspace coordinates calculated,” he declared, as they broke through the atmosphere.

“Beautiful,” Hera said. “Say goodbye to our friends.”

There was the briefest view of stars out the cockpit viewport before they all blurred as they jumped to light speed.

“We made it,” Hera breathed, leaning back in the pilot’s chair and looking up to Kanan as he stood.

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he couldn’t stay seated any longer. He paced from the viewport to the cockpit doors and back again, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Next time,” he said, giving her a crooked smile, “don’t let me think you’re unarmed when you’ve got a blaster up your skirt.”

Hera laughed, sidling from the pilot’s seat. “I’m never unarmed when you’re with me,” she said, halting his pacing by standing directly in front of him. “You pulled those blasters from the troopers without even touching them.”

“You like it when I do stuff like that,” he said. It wasn’t a question, he’d seen the way her eyes sparkled after he’d done that. It was present in her look now, as her eyes bore into his.

“Chopper, I need you to go run diagnostics on the _Phantom_. She pulled funny on the flight back.” All the while saying this Hera’s eyes never left Kanan’s, then when the cockpit doors whooshed closed behind the departing droid, she closed the distance between them.

Kanan’s breath stuttered in his chest as Hera’s lips met his. Both of her hands had come up to his shoulders, pushing him back until his shoulder blades met with the closed cockpit doors. He unstuck himself, arms winding around her as he kissed her in return with every ounce of passion he’d been harboring since he had met her.

Hera’s arms encircled his neck, fingers weaving into the loose hair at the nape. His lips were warm and soft, and when his tongue slid gently between her lips, she opened up eagerly to him. Soon they were full on making out with her pinning him against the doors.

Kanan had dreamt of kissing her, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sparks that would fly when they finally did. He let one hand slide low on her back, the other rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades, off and on the fabric of the dress.

When they came up for air, he brushed his nose over her shimmering cheek just as he’d wanted to, bringing his lips to her earcone. “Hera,” he whispered, slightly nuzzling the side of her head. “What are we doing here?”

Hera didn’t know the answer to the question, didn’t want to think about it. She pressed firm fingers along his jawline, pulling him back to kiss her again.

If she didn’t want to talk, he certainly wasn’t going to make her, but his eager body was starting to anticipate this leading somewhere he wasn’t sure she’d be ready for it to go.

Then the cockpit doors slid open behind his back, and they both nearly took a tumble to the DuraSteel floor. Hera managed to keep them upright, but Chopper was wheeling between them, beeping angrily at Kanan.

“Hey, relax,” Kanan growled, as the droid rolled again and again at his shins, pushing him further and further from Hera. Again Kanan couldn’t make out all of the broken binary, but he did catch something about ‘keeping his filthy hands to himself.' “Hera, will you explain to this bucket of bolts that I wasn’t taking advantage of you! ... Hera?”

Kanan knew the moment he looked up to her face that the spall had been broken. There was remorse there as slender green fingers came up to her own lips for a moment. Kanan’s heart sank down somewhere around his knees.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not looking directly at him. “We shouldn’t.”

Chopper bleeped out an ‘I told you so,' and took another run at Kanan, which he dodged.

“Hera, wait a minute,” he said, reaching for her, but his hand stopped short when she brought her glassy green eyes to his.

“Love and war don’t mix, Kanan,” she said. “I got carried away today, but we both know this can’t happen.” She gestured between the two of them.

To think moments before she’d been warm in his arms, now there might as well have been a galaxy between them. The disappointment was welling up in Kanan’s chest, and everything he had to say would only make things worse.

Hera watched as his jaw set, lips pressing tightly together above his trim goatee. She could feel him deflating, and her heart ached. There was nothing she could say to make it better. So when he turned away to stalk off to his cabin, she let him. 

The tears came when she sank back into the pilot’s seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet ya'll thought this was dead? Well it's not. I've gotten a bit distracted by a Kalluzeb thing I'm writing but this fic is very much alive and well. I just have more of the later bits written than the current bits. I'm working on it though.


End file.
